The heavy wooden door slid open silently.
General Haftar appeared at the doorway. He had changed into a clean desert camouflage uniform. Although his face still looked tired and haggard, his back was straight, his gaze sharp and calm, without a trace of a fugitive's despair. He was alone, without an aide.
His gaze swept across the people in the conference room with varied expressions, finally landing on Song Heping, and he nodded slightly.
"Mr. Song, everyone."
Haftar's voice was steady and powerful, carrying a piercing quality born from experience, "Sorry to disturb you. I know you are behind closed doors, deciding the future of me and my loyal soldiers. I request a few minutes of your time to present some thoughts. Regardless of the outcome, I, Haftar, thank the 'Musician' Defense for their assistance in Desert City and Razor Back."
Song Heping gestured for him to continue: "General, please go ahead."
